


Suspension

by MajorPidge (ScoracleTrash)



Series: Dressage [5]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Denial, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScoracleTrash/pseuds/MajorPidge
Summary: Armitage gets his first taste of not getting what he wants.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Enric Pryde
Series: Dressage [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839196
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Suspension

**Author's Note:**

> Suspension: the phase of jumping when the horse is over an obstacle

“Look at me.”

This was it. This was where Armitage belonged. Where he felt most right in all the Galaxy. On his knees, chin to his chest, hands in his lap, waiting for a command from his Allegiant General.

He obeyed slowly, eyes turning up first, leading the way for the rest of his head. He tried not to tremble with anticipation of what was coming next, always something unexpected mixed in with the now-familiar actions of flesh on flesh.

“Good boy.”

Armitage couldn’t have been more sustained by his mentor’s praise if he had, in fact, been a loyal hound.

“What shall we do tonight, sir?” The young man ran his hand along the other’s knee and up his thigh.

Enric let his head roll back, “Mm, yes, that sounds like a fine way to start. Go on.”

Armitage deftly pulled his Owner’s cock, still impressive to him even after memorizing every aspect of it, from the fabric of Enric’s breeches and began to stroke with light fingers. His eyes never left Enric’s as he leaned down and swirled his tongue around the tip.

The grey-haired man closed his eyes and sighed in satisfaction, “You’ve gotten so very good at this, pet, I think I could do this every night.”

“You’ve particularly earned my worship tonight,” Armitage nuzzled the searing flesh lightly before running his tongue from the base to the tip, “You have an uncanny ability to make Ren listen to reason.”

“Another angry young man striving for power to fill a void. Unfortunately for him, I have no interest in filling that void for him as I do for you. But fortunately for the entire Galaxy, I understand exactly how he thinks.” Enric ran his fingers through the kneeling man’s hair.

“And what is it that makes you strive for power, my love?” Armitage asked in a whisper against velvet skin.

“Simple,” Enric’s fingers clenched in Armitage’s hair and tugged, “I get off on it. Now stop teasing me and suck like a good little toy, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

The ginger obeyed his master, taking pleasure in showing off how much he could take now, not the slightest catch in his throat as he slid to the base.

“I think you’re about ready for me to fuck that lovely mouth of yours,” Enric groaned, releasing the younger man’s hair, “You’ll look so lovely on your back.”

Armitage moaned his approval.

“So good, so good, my boy,” the older man’s hips bucked upward, “Such an obedient little thing. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”

Armitage sucked like he starved for it, moving his head up and down along the length of Enric’s cock with obscene noises. He was just as hungry for his mentor’s praise as he was for his body.

Enric slid back as he came, making certain Armitage tasted the result of his work.

He sat back on his knees and swallowed.

“What comes next?”

Enric picked up a glass of wine from the table before the settee and took a sip of it.

“Well, it’s getting late,” he said, “You should probably go back to your quarters.”

The young man looked wounded, “What?”

Enric raised his eyebrow, “I assume your ears work properly. They always have before.”

“But,” the ginger whimpered, “But, you can’t!”

“Can’t I? There’s nothing in our contract that states every time you make me come, I have to do the same to you.”

“But, Daddy!” Armitage ran his hand along Enric’s thigh again, “I did so well for you!”

“That you did. And you need to be taught that your pleasure is secondary. You are an Owned charge, Armitage. Your role is to please me. My role is to give you discipline. Denial is discipline.”

The poor young man looked as if he might cry.

“But...but…” he crossed his arms and sank back onto his heels.

“I don’t recall this being one of your positions,” Enric said with a cocked eyebrow.

“But!”

“Armitage, really, if you didn’t look so absolutely beautiful when distressed I might not be so tempted to put you in such predicaments.” He laughed.

“So you admit it! It’s not for discipline, it’s because you like it.”

“I can like doing something to you and it can build your character at the same time, my mouthy little boy,” Enric fastened his breeches and stood, taking Armitage’s chin in his hand, “Besides, don’t think this isn’t hard on me, too.”

Armitage pouted.

“You’re not doing yourself any favors. Keep this up and I’ll send you to bed without letting you take care of it yourself.”

The ginger whimpered.

“Needy little slut, aren’t you?” Enric asked with an affectionate smirk. He leaned down and kissed his charge’s forehead, “Go to your rooms. Take matters into your own hands while dreaming of me. Then tomorrow night come back and get a reward for being an obedient little charge, hm?”

Armitage lowered his chin to his chest, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Hm? What are you?”

“I. I’m a needy little slut.”

“There’s a good boy,” Enric ruffled his hair before turning to walk toward his bedroom, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Anyone who had gotten close enough to Armitage on his way back to his room would’ve noticed his flushed face, his rumpled hair, and the very quiet, high-pitched whining noise he was making the entire way. But no one got close enough.

His uniform and what he wore beneath it was strewn across the path from door to fresher and he stumbled into the shower with a cry at the coldness of the water, not yet running hot.

Stars, Enric could be so cruel. He was probably laughing at that very moment. And that beautiful face of his, it seemed built for callousness. 

But it was never real cruelty. Not like Armitage’s father’s cruelty. This manufactured indifference to his suffering was carefully crafted, negotiated and agreed upon and absolutely intoxicating. He knew his master was lying in bed, touching himself with far less frenzy as he thought about Armitage, desperate, bent over himself as the water finally turned warm, gritting his teeth and aching for release as he imagined what tomorrow night might bring.

The poor young man flopped back on his bed, panting and damp, and heard a pinging noise as his personal com link on the bedside table announced a message.

“Sleep well, my boy,” came Enric’s voice.

Bastard. Beautiful, wicked, magnificent bastard.


End file.
